Little Wolf Story

RICKY GARNI

A boy appeared in the wood. The wood was filled with wolves. On the boy's tee shirt was a picture of a grey wolf. The life expectancy of a wolf if 12-14 years.

Suddenly, a full-grown alpha male appears in front of the boy. The boy thinks that he is dreaming.

"Am I dreaming?" he asks.

"No," says the wolf.

"Little Red Riding Hood," the boy says, his legs shaking.

"The Three Little Pigs," counters the wolf.

"Am I dreaming?" the boy asks again.

"Of course not," says the wolf, slowly, gracefully, stepping forward.

By the time the wolf is finished, the little boy looks like a tbsp. of orange peel and nothing more. The boy wanted to make cranberry butter for dinner for his mother that very night. In fact, he was walking through the wood in order to shop at the general store to buy provisions and necessities for the family. It was a short cut. But of course by now he was dead. The cranberry butter that he would have liked to have made would have included:

1 lb. butter (softened)
1/4 cup cranberries, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tbsp buttermilk
1 tbsp lemon peel (grated)
1 cup honey
4 tsp walnuts, ground
1/4 cup cranberry sauce

and 1 tbsp orange peel. Inside the house, the little boy's mother made cranberry butter by herself. "Ready or not," she declared, "here I come!" The house was beautiful, though simple and rustic and the scent of cranberries filled the air. The little boy, though gone, felt guilty. The little boy's mother, though busy, didn't know what to think, and so she hummed to herself.

"Say nighty night and kiss me/just hold me close and tell me ..."

Outside the beautiful house, the wolf paced back and forth uneasily. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said. "Relax," he said, "I'm dreaming ..."

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